


what we tame

by suganii (feints)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi is courted with flowers and books: a deadly combination, Gratuitous Little Prince References, Inspired by The Little Prince, M/M, Merry Osaaka Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28389066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feints/pseuds/suganii
Summary: Someone is leaving Akaashi roses.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 10
Kudos: 86





	what we tame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elleskandal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleskandal/gifts).



> _For Elle_.
> 
> Merry (belated) Christmas! Hope you enjoy this little Osaaka offering haha.
> 
> Some background if you're unfamiliar with The Little Prince: In the book, the narrator, a pilot, crashes into a desert, where he meets a character he calls "The Little Prince". As the pilot tries to repair his plane, the Little Prince tells him of his many adventures, revealing he was from a small planet where he tended to a lovely rose with four thorns, but he eventually decided to leave, venturing to several different planets before finally landing on earth. The pilot actually meets him days before his first year anniversary since landing on earth, and at the end of the book, the Little Prince leaves to go back to his own planet. A lot of characters are referenced, but I've tried to make it so that it's still understandable for people who haven't read it.
> 
> Enjoy!

It arrives that first day, a solitary red rose on his desk, nondescript. There is no accompanying note, and when Akaashi asks the security guard for details, they remark that no one had arrived in the office earlier than himself.

Puzzled, he decides to arrange the rose by his stationary container, since he has no time to find a glass jar. He empties the bottle of water he usually carries with him to about half, pouring the water into the container before placing the rose inside.

Soon the matter is quickly forgotten though as he becomes consumed with meeting deadlines for the week.

He assumes that might be the end of it, when a week passes, the rose withers, and nothing else shows up at his desk.

-🌹-

Some days, when Akaashi’s work threatens to overwhelm him, his favourite spot to unwind is at the Onigiri Miya’s, situated conveniently about twenty minutes away. Tucked snugly in between a woodworking store and a bookstore, Akaashi finds it is all too easy of an excuse to head down, whenever he has free time, to grab the latest edition of Weekly Shounen Vie. If he comes back with extra onigiri, that’s no one’s business but his own.

On this particular day, pushing open the doors to the shop, Akaashi finds the cozy atmosphere more comforting than usual. He’s arrived just in time to avoid the dinner rush, an hour to the store’s closing. Low-hanging orange and yellow lights hang down from the ceiling in little onigiri-shaped bubbles, and the walls are composed of stained dark wood. By the counter, there’s a man wearing a blue-coloured apron, his signature black cap on his head.

Akaashi beams, taking a seat on the other side of the counter. He waits for the man to lift his head, rewarded instantly when the man meets his eyes, and beams right back. “’Kaashi-san!”

“Hello, Myaa-sam,” Akaashi says softly. He wasn’t aware that the other man had returned to Tokyo.

“I just got back ‘ere yesterday,” Osamu says, answering his unspoken question. “Wanted to see how the business was doin’.”

Akaashi clears his throat, his smile stretching even wider.

“Is that your only reason?”

By now they’re familiar enough with each other that such teasing is commonplace. Osamu shakes his head, crooked smile still tugging at his lips. “Came to see a friend too. Ya happy?”

“Very,” Akaashi nods. His chest feels warm, and not just because he’s out of the cold. He takes a minute to unwind his scarf from his neck.

“Well,” Osamu drawls, “let me see if I can’t whip up somethin’ for ya then. What’ll it be tonight?”

Akaashi thinks for a moment, before quirking a brow. “Why don’t you surprise me today, Myaa-sam?”

Osamu tips the edge of his cap in Akaashi’s direction with a grin. “Sure. Gimme 20 minutes.”

Akaashi waves the man away. He knows in a minute or so, the man will be back, prepping his onigiri in front of Akaashi.

He returns with bowls of shiitake mushrooms and karaage, before getting to work. Akaashi watches him silently, enraptured. The sight is endlessly endearing; he treasures these moments, when the trappings of formality fall away, and Akaashi is presented with the man behind the business genius, shaping the object of his passion. Each onigiri made by his hands is Osamu’s love given manifestation.

Akaashi places his head on his hands with a sigh. Just then, his phone buzzes from within his backpack. Another reminder of Meteo Attack’s deadline for publication, Akaashi already knows.

He tugs the zipper open, fishing inside for his laptop. His fingers brush against something unexpected, though. Akaashi digs it out and holds it up against the light.

It’s another rose. From inside his backpack. _How’d it even…?_

There’s a piece of paper coiled around the stem. Akaashi sets the rose down and unrolls the paper with a frown, hardly believing himself.

_mais j'étais trop jeune pour savoir l'aimer_

Akaashi has to take a minute to recall the French lessons he had as a teenager. _Pour savoir… but I was too young to know how to love._ No _, I was too young to know love._

The words sound familiar somehow. Akaashi can’t quite place them, but he has the strangest feeling he should.

“Whatcha got there, ‘Kaashi-san?”

Osamu’s voice breaks through Akaashi’s little bubble of contemplation. He holds the rose up between his index finger and thumb for Osamu’s inspection.

Osamu whistles. “Pretty flower ya got there. Secret admirer?”

“Maybe.” Akaashi frowns. “It was in my bag, though.”

“Someone from your office?”

“I hope. It would be really creepy otherwise.”

Osamu shrugs. “Maybe they’re just a little shy.”

“It’s not the first time, though.”

“Oh?” Osamu leans forward in interest, his eyes regarding Akaashi curiously. “Ya found a rose in yer bag before?”

“No, not exactly.” Akaashi taps a finger against his chin. “But there was a rose placed on my desk last week.”

“I see.”

The conversation fades away as Akaashi’s attention is snagged by Osamu pressing a rice ball gently with his hands. Placing the rice ball in the middle of a strip of nori, Osamu wraps the corners around each side, front and back, before sealing the sides neatly with the ends folded up. Osamu washes his hands by the sink before towelling them dry. With a flourish, he places five pieces of onigiri on a wooden plate, adding miso soup and a small bowl of sliced cucumbers to the side before offering it up to Akaashi.

“Here ya go, ‘Kaashi-san,” he says cheerfully.

Akaashi’s mouth is already watering. His first bite is crisp, biting into the nori with a crunch. His second bite is a burst of flavour as he tastes karaage on his tongue. He moans.

“Ya like that, huh?” Osamu cocks a smirk at him, a hand on his hip. “We’ll be addin’ that to the menu next week. Consider yerself a premium customer, ‘Kaashi-san.”

Akaashi mumbles his assent through a mouthful of onigiri. For a while, all he can focus on is the soft flesh of the karaage, spice flooding his mouth. It sets a fire in his belly, heating him up from the inside. The miso soup is a good contrast as he finishes up his first onigiri.

Osamu takes up the conversation again, his eyes on Akaashi’s rose.

“‘s about that flower. I think ya should just wait and see fer now. Maybe it’s just a coincidence.”

Akaashi groans. “Giving roses can’t be accidental, Myaa-sam.”

“You might be surprised.” Osamu waggles his eyebrows, to Akaashi’s amusement.

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

Osamu hums. “Maybe. There _miiiighta_ been a couple o’ times in high school tha’ I found flowers an’ chocolate under my desk addressed to a Miya Atsumu.”

“That’s awful.”

Osamu shrugs. “Hey, the chocolates were good at least.”

The two of them fall into a companionable silence as Akaashi finishes up his second onigiri — ikura-flavoured this time. Osamu’s given him a great selection, Akaashi thinks with another burst of warmth.

“You know, I didn’t realise your brother would be more popular than you were,” Akaashi ventures after a beat.

He’s surprised when Osamu grins. “Yeah, well. Wouldja believe it, he was the teacher’s pet back then? People never coulda reconciled that to his persona on court. Some people thought they wanted to try an’ understand. Others just wanted ta be the one to tame him.”

“Oh.” Akaashi’s nodded along, listening intently to Osamu’s words, but at the word “tame”, his brain short-circuits. “Wait. Say that again.”

“Which part? Ah.” A strange look passes over Osamu’s face, but it passes so quickly Akaashi’s almost convinced it was a trick of the light. “Lotsa people thought they could tame the great Miya Atsumu?”

“Yes!”

The memory comes roaring back to him, so potent Akaashi’s ashamed that he’s forgotten. _The Little Prince_ is one of the most prized pieces of literature he owns. It even has a spot on his shelf in the office, bookmarked and annotated to within an inch of its life. Akaashi glances down, reading the words again. Could it be that the piece of paper he’s looking at is referencing it?

Maybe. Maybe not. It might just be a coincidence, he reasons. The statement is a little generic to begin with.

“’Kaashi-san, you okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Akaashi says. “Sorry.”

It’s probably nothing.

Anyway, what are the odds that someone knows him well enough to quote the words to a book he knows by heart?

-🌹-

The roses come with greater frequency after that. Akaashi resigns himself to replacing his stationery container with an actual glass jar. At least once a week, there’s a red rose that shows up, usually on his desk, sometimes delivered to reception, and one memorable time laid by his front door. It gets the rumour mill going around Akaashi, especially since it always comes unmarked, just the rose without a note or even a ribbon, except for the last instance on his doorstep which came with another slip of paper coiled around the stem.

_j'ai été sotte, lui dit-elle enfin. je te demande pardon. tâche d'être heureux._

_I was silly, the flower tells him finally. I ask your forgiveness. Strive to be happy._

It’s only then that Akaashi knows for sure that his mystery suitor is, after all, referencing his favourite childhood bedtime story. It sends Akaashi reeling.

_Strive to be happy_.

While Akaashi doesn’t know if he’s been motivated by that particular factor all his life, he does know that recently, he’s been making strides toward it. He’s been using the weekends to catch up on books he’s been putting off reading, to try out new eateries, to sometimes visit local theatres and check out highly-rated movies that he writes up his own reviews for in his head. The latter is always a special time; sitting in the dark, ensconced by a greater consciousness while hovering on the edges himself, has always been Akaashi’s preferred mode of being anyway. He doesn’t need the company of a great many people to be happy.

When he does find himself starved for company though, he visits Kenma and they can usually decide on something fun to amuse themselves with, whether it’s Akaashi learning to cook simple ramen with mushrooms and soft-boiled eggs—so far his best and _only_ edible dish—or playing simple video games on Kenma’s huge screen, or watching reruns of Star Wars.

Other times, it’s one of his old college buddies (read: Kuroo-san) who drags Akaashi out to town, though those come with less frequency nowadays. Quite a few of his friends are beginning to settle down and start families of their own, which Akaashi would never begrudge them for.

It does mean that he can’t exactly ask for any of their advice though. How can he explain the frequent pounding of his chest when he understands that whoever his secret admirer is, they’re trying to reach out to him with something that means the world to him? When for every rose, each one carefully dethorned, there are exactly four ridges where four thorns had been?

Akaashi wants to learn. Whoever it is who’s made him feel younger than he has in years, who makes people he works with treat him like he’s actually his age and not merely tired and overworked, Akaashi wants to know. He wants to thank them for giving him parts of himself he’d forgotten back, like the giddy sense of excitement for another quote he recognises, an excitement he wants to share. A book he wants to debate.

This past Saturday, he’d even dropped by a Hinokuniya to buy himself a new copy of _The Little Prince_ , re-familiarising himself with the passages all over again. The men on the planets, the lamplighter, the railway man and the fox. Akaashi wonders who his mystery suitor considers themselves to be, and if Akaashi himself is the little prince of this tale, rejuvenated with each reminder of a rose that claims to love him.

-🌹-

“It’s a book about a boy learning to love. As he journeys through each planet, he sees for himself what love can be. For the king, the drunkard and the businessman, they only know how to love themselves. And then, when he arrives on earth, he experiences the love of the fox, and the love of the pilot. The fox cries when they part. The pilot refuses to leave his undead body. They love the little prince as they perceive him, and in loving him they learn more about themselves, and he learns more about himself. He learns to love his rose, where before he had been too young.”

“Ah, but ‘Kaashi-san,” Osamu shakes his head, forehead scrunched in thought. Akaashi squashes down the part of himself that finds it adorable. “Wouldn’tcha say that the fox loved selfishly? He didn’t give himself without expectin’ somethin’ in return.”

Akaashi pauses to consider, taking a large bite of his onigiri as he does. “I don’t think that’s wrong in itself,” he finally says. “When you love someone, of course you love with the hope of it being returned.”

“But in the end, the little prince left ‘im. He went back to his rose.”

“The fox must’ve known that the prince couldn’t have stayed there forever.”

“Still,” Osamu remarks, some undercurrent of emotion pinning his voice, “maybe the fox shoulda tried harder. To the fox, the prince was the only one there was in the world. He shoulda fought harder for that.”

“Myaa-sam,” Akaashi says, surprised. He didn’t know Osamu had had so many feelings about _The Little Prince_. It’s… nice.

“Sorry,” Osamu ducks his head apologetically. “It’s just that…”

“The fox is your favourite character, I’m guessing,” Akaashi observes with a smile.

Osamu winces. “That obvious, huh? Wait, no, let me guess _yer_ favourite character.”

He backs up a little, scrutinising Akaashi from head to toe with a thoughtful hum. Akaashi lets him, taking another bite of his onigiri, more delicately this time. He closes his eyes as the taste of maruage miso fills his mouth. It’s so good that he immediately takes another bite, and another, until he’s licking bits of nori and sesame from his fingertips.

He looks up to find Osamu still watching him, and his cheeks redden as he squeezes his eyes shut again. “Sorry about that,” he mumbles.

“Nah.” Osamu’s voice is a deep rumble, soothing something deep in Akaashi’s chest. “’s why I went into the food business to begin with. Watchin’ people enjoy my cookin’? There’s no greater satisfaction in the world.”

Akaashi opens his eyes. There’s something different about Osamu tonight, something softer.

It’s late at night and everyone else has gone home. Akaashi’s suddenly aware of the fact that it’s just the two of them, him and Osamu, aware of the way the light from the onigiri bulbs caresses Osamu’s face, his cheeks, his nose, his mouth. He’s even taken off his cap, letting stray locks of black hair tumble freely down his forehead. It’s a flattering look on him.

With great difficulty, Akaashi pulls his eyes away, wringing his hands together under the counter. “Your food is my favourite,” he admits, desperate to break the weird tension that’s settled over them.

Osamu chuckles. “Glad to hear it, ‘Kaashi-san. Otherwise yer visits here would be such a waste, wouldn’t it?”

He forces himself to smile. It’s getting increasingly difficult for Akaashi to silence the growing voice in his head telling him to press forward and kiss the living daylights out of Miya Osamu, but if there’s anything he can pride himself on, it’s self-control.

He clears his throat. “Myaa-sam, have you figured out who my favourite character is yet?”

Osamu hums again, narrowing his eyes in contemplation before snapping his fingers. His eyes light up.

“…It’s the lamplighter, ain’t it?”

Akaashi’s head jerks to his in shock. Osamu merely continues to smile that same fond smile he’s been giving Akaashi the whole night, as he continues, “Yeah, I kinda figured. You wouldn’t be the type to identify with the little prince, even after all what you said about his journey. Ya don’t think of yerself as an astronaut. Yer more an astronomer, charting the stars from the comfort of the ground, but at the same time, yer not completely satisfied with that life either. The lamplighter lights his lamp because he doesn’t know how to do anythin’ else. He had the choice to join the little prince though, an' that’s what ya want too.”

“Myaa-sam.”

For a moment, Akaashi forgets how to breathe.

“’Kaashi-san.” Osamu gazes steadily back. “Yer… well, I can’t say yer wrong. The little prince coulda never made it back to his home planet. He coulda died of thirst, of hunger, he coulda died by the snake’s venom if the snake had just been pretendin’ to help him. But the lamplighter couldn’ta known that. None of us could, ‘til we got to the end of the story. What I’m sayin’ is, there might nota been room for two on the lamplighter’s planet. But all the lamplighter coulda done was asked.”

Akaashi gulps. Tears spring to his eyes unbidden, and his breath rattles shakily in his throat, but he forces his feelings to subside. He takes two quick breaths. “Actually,” he says, grateful his voice is even, “my favourite character is the narrator. The pilot. I may like to keep my feet on the ground, you’re right, Myaa-sam. I don’t really believe I belong out there in space. But I could never forgive myself if I didn’t at least attempt a chance of flight, just once.”

His heart thuds. “Thank you for tonight, Myaa-sam,” he adds in a low whisper. “I… It’s been a long time since I last shared this part of myself with someone else. Thank you for discussing _The Little Prince_ with me.”

“’Kaashi-san…”

Akaashi stands, gathering his things. “It’s getting late. I should go.”

Osamu looks down for a very long time. He doesn’t say anything, just releases a breath in a long exhale.

Akaashi heads to the door, his knuckles white with the friction of holding his backpack so tight. Right as he pulls the door open, he stops. He turns and raises a hand in farewell. “Thursday night, then, Myaa-sam?”

Osamu finally lifts his head. His lips curl upward, crooking down at the corners as he attempts a semblance of his usual smirk. “See ya then. G’night, Akaashi.”

“Good night.”

Akaashi steps out into the night.

-🌹-

Two days later, Akaashi receives a single rose by his desk. There’s yet another quote wrapped around the stem.

_risque de pleurer un peu si l'on s'est laissé apprivoiser_

_we risk crying if we let ourselves be tamed_

The identity of his mystery suitor couldn’t be clearer. _But if it really_ is _him,_ Akaashi thinks, balling a hand up into a fist, _why won’t he just say it?_

Akaashi swallows back a sudden onslaught of tears, crumpling the piece of paper in hand instead and depositing it by his desk’s bin. His thoughts race in circles as he tries to make sense of his situation. No matter how he tries, he doesn’t get any work done that day.

He can’t continue like this. As soon as the last bell of the day rings, Akaashi is up and out the door, snagging his copy of _The LIttle_ Prince on his way out while dialling a call into his phone. He badly needs advice.

Kenma picks up on the fifth ring. “Keiji?”

“Kenma,” Akaashi breathes into his phone speaker. He lets out an involuntary sniff.

“Hmm.” There’s a sound of shuffling on the other end, muffled voices in the background, before a _scritch_ as Kenma picks up the phone again. “Grab car incoming. ETA 10 minutes.”

“You’re a life-saver, Kenma,” Akaashi says gratefully.

“Yeah, well. I’m sure whatever you’re about to tell me is going to be good. See you soon?”

“Soon.”

-🌹-

“Hmm. Let me get this straight. Miya Osamu basically tries to ask you out through subtext.”

“Flowers and my favourite childhood book.”

Kenma waves a hand. “Same thing. And then you reject him, also through subtext.”

“I… panicked.”

“Why?” Kenma doesn’t blink even as his cat, a beautiful tortoiseshell by the name of Mr Pig, hops onto Akaashi’s lap, demanding cuddles.

Akaashi immediately acquiesces, stroking Mr Pig while trying not to appear as though he isn’t disappearing into the cushions.

“Keiji,” Kenma stresses, making the motion to put down his Switch for a second.

Akaashi immediately opens his mouth. “He just… he saw me, okay? He just figured me out, and I got scared.”

“But why?”

“What do you mean, _why_?” Akaashi gripes, frustrated. Mr Pig hisses the same moment Akaashi realises he’s been petting him too aggressively, and he offers a neck rub in apology.

“I _mean_ ,” Kenma says, drawing Akaashi’s attention back to him, “I notice things about you all the time too, but you don’t exactly freak out.”

“Might be because I’m already used to it,” Akaashi says dryly. He and Kenma are long used to each other’s idiosyncrasies. That Kenma understands him so well is why Akaashi wanted to go to him in the first place.

Kenma winds a hand down his hair, curling a stray strand around his finger as he does. “I don’t think that’s it,” he says meaningfully. “Keiji,” he says, “you like him, don’t you?”

Akaashi sighs. “I… do.”

“And you’re afraid of it?”

“I haven’t had a relationship since college, Kenma, you know that. I just… I like him so much. What if I disappoint whatever notion he has of me?”

“He already knows what you’re like,” Kenma calmly points out.

“Yes, and he hates me for it. He called me a coward.” Akaashi sniffles; despite his best efforts, a tear trails down his cheek.

Kenma reaches over to awkwardly pat his thigh. “So prove him wrong,” he tells him simply. “Prove to him you’re an astronaut, or whatever it was that he said.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Sure you can.” Kenma meets his gaze—steady, just like Osamu’s stare had felt the other night. Akaashi is only just then realising how much he’s surrounded himself with perceptive people—and tells him, “You’re Akaashi Keiji, soon to be youngest Assistant Editor in Weekly Shounen Vie history. Go win your man.”

Akaashi blinks as he absorbs Kenma’s statement. “I can’t believe you just said that to me,” he says in awe.

“Live with it, because I’m never doing that again.”

He startles when Akaashi pulls him into a fierce hug, startling Mr Pig in the process who’d made a home for himself in Akaashi’s lap as well. Kenma pats Akaashi on the back once, twice. “Thank you,” Akaashi breathes before releasing him.

Kenma shrugs. “Up for a few rounds of Mario Kart?”

Akaashi nods. “Sure.”

  
-🌹-

Akaashi reads the passage where the fox encounters the little prince that night. Curled up in Kenma’s huge guest bedroom, his first well-used copy of the book in hand, he loses himself in the familiar beats of the story once more.

_The fox seeks the little prince out, wanting to make a friend. Sensing the opportunity for something novel, he teaches the prince to tame him, so that he will have something beyond the monotony of what he does day to day to look forward to, and then later, to reminisce over._

_Wheat is of no use to me_ , the fox says. _The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the colour of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat…_

What exactly has Osamu been trying to say with his note? The fox had found the notion worthwhile, but the narrator who had heard the story had been sorrowful.

Did Osamu regret it? With a gasp, he recalls Osamu’s words from the night before. _“The fox shoulda fought harder.”_

Was Osamu acknowledging that he was the fox then? That he was willing to take that plunge?

Akaashi may not be an astronaut, but he still thinks he’s a pilot. He hadn’t been able to work in his dream department, but he’s settled for the next-best thing. And though it is exhausting, as he’s told Osamu, eventually he’s begun to grow fond of it. He’s grown satisfied with his life, satisfied with the way things are.

Is it really enough though? Is he _happy_?

Akaashi has no answers, but the next day when he heads to the office even earlier than usual, determined to at least catch up on the work he couldn’t finish, a shadow by his desk makes him rooted to the ground in shock.

The shadow turns, and it isn’t Miya Osamu. Not in build, or in height. Not his signature cap in sight.

Udai Tenma’s eyes widen as he’s caught red-handed, and Akaashi’s heart plunges to the icy depths.

-🌹-

Akaashi has been wrong about everything. _Of course_ it would be Udai, who has heard him ramble about _The Little Prince_ before, one memorable time for days on end even, after an animated film inspired by the book of the same name had dropped in theatres, and Akaashi had dragged Udai to see the movie with him. Miya Osamu may have been enlightened enough to discuss the story with him recently, but Udai has known of his fascination for years.

Akaashi has known himself to have overthought things before, but never has he felt so disappointed. He gathers himself vainly, giving Udai a wan smile and waving off Udai’s attempts to explain. He collapses on his desk while Udai awkwardly slinks away.

Udai will probably be back, looking for an answer soon. Akaashi will have to think of a way to let him down as gently as possible without damaging their working relationship. Akaashi’s emails have only piled up over the night. Udai’s manuscript, on time for once, is also by his counter, ready for review.

But it all pales in comparison to the revelation that Miya Osamu is not his secret admirer after all. Akaashi, glasses removed, buries his face onto his desk in defeat. All this time, what he’d thought were hints from Osamu were just the imagination of a mind that had yearned, just once, for things to work out.

He’d _wanted_ Miya Osamu to be the one, to have seen him, to have taken a chance on him.

It’s been so long since Akaashi’s felt he was anything other than needed. He hasn’t made many new friends since he’d started working; he’s used the comfort of his home as an excuse. He hasn’t visited his own parents in ages.

Some stroke of fate or destiny, a string of red, had caused his and Osamu’s lives to intertwine. Despite how busy the two of them are, Osamu, with a rare exception, has always let Akaashi know he was in town, visiting Akaashi even when the man is too busy to meet up with him at his restaurant.

And Akaashi has possibly ruined that. Because his heart was too muddled to listen. The fox’s greatest present to the little prince was a statement: _What is essential is invisible to the eye_.

Akaashi wearily lifts up his head. His eyes fall on the rose, and the note curled beside it. Udai must’ve been too startled to tie it properly.

With a forlorn sigh, Akaashi puts his glasses back on and drags the paper to himself, unrolling its contents.

_ne me laissez pas tellement triste: écrivez-moi vite qu'il est revenu…_

_don’t leave me so sad: send me word that he has returned…_

“Akaashi-san.”

Akaashi stiffens. Udai is fidgeting, slowly rocking back and forth on his heels. Akaashi hardens his resolve. “Udai-san, I—”

“It isn’t me!” Udai exclaims.

“Wh-what?”

“I’m not the one writing those notes, or sending those roses. Someone asked me to do it.”

“And you agreed?” Akaashi’s voice rises in pitch as his heart begins to roar. So it wasn’t Udai after all. It might just be… He wants it to be…

“Hey, the food he gave me was pretty good in exchange.”

“Who is it then?” Akaashi stands up, aware of the fact that he’s still in yesterday’s clothes, his hair likely smells, his glasses are askew, and he might’ve left a sock back at Kenma’s place.

It doesn’t matter. His whole being hinges on Udai’s next words.

Udai smiles a small, secretive smile at him. “I think you might already know who.”

Akaashi clutches his bag to his side and runs.

-🌹-

In retrospect, it’s pretty silly of him to visit the shop so early when he knows, logically, that Onigiri Miya’s opens at 11. He glances at his clock again, sighing. It will be 8 in the morning soon, and he doesn’t exactly have the luxury to wait by the storefront for three whole hours.

Akaashi wants to hang his head in frustration. He settles for banging it gently against the wall.

He’ll just have to swing by later, he decides. Hopefully, Osamu will be around then.

“‘Kaashi-san?”

Akaashi pivots at the sound of his name, nearly banging his head against Osamu’s own as he turns. Osamu backs up a few steps, hands held in front of him sheepishly. “Whoa, hey, ‘Kaashi-san.”

“Myaa-sam.” Now that Osamu’s right there, Akaashi finds himself tongue-tied. He coughs. “I, uh—”

“‘s pretty early for you to be here, ain’t it? Woulda thought you’d be in the office at this time.”

“I was.” Akaashi’s leg shakes nervously on the concrete. His hands wring themselves behind his back, even as he can’t bring himself to say another word.

Shakily, he takes the rose out of his backpack, holds it out for Osamu to see. “I think I deserve an explanation.”

Osamu’s eyes are large like saucers. He clears his throat. “Inside,” he finally says. “This might take a while.”

He fishes out for his keys, unlocking the door to his restaurant with ease. Leading Akaashi to the counter to sit, he switches the lights on before taking a seat beside Akaashi, removing his cap and placing it in his hands with a sigh.

Akaashi breaks the silence first.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I… I didn’t know how.”

“What do you mean?”

Osamu rubs a palm over his face, sighing. “I was givin’ ya these hints, but ya never seemed to take it. I thought maybe, if I saw for myself how ya reacted to bein’ asked out, I could gauge from yer response if it was the same way ya were reactin’ to me.”

“And did you find it?” Akaashi prods, fingers curling on the counter. “Your answer?”

Osamu sighs. “Not… exactly. Ya were just the same, like the roses didn’t even bother ya that much.”

“I texted you, though. And I asked you for advice. I _debated_ with you.”

“Ya did,” Osamu agrees, voice soft. “Ya may not show it, but ya never let yerself be pushed into anythin’ before you’re ready. I like that about ya.”

Akaashi swallows. “So, then,” he ventures, a lump around his throat, “what you said about the fox?”

Osamu sighs again. “Another hint.” His eyes meet Akaashi’s abruptly. “Hey. I’m sorry that I scared ya away that day. I shoulda known better than to say that.”

Akaashi’s heart skips a beat. “No, no, you were right to say it. Even as my friend, you were right to say it.”

“A friend, huh?” Osamu’s mouth slants up and to the side, faint warmth pooling at its edges. Akaashi recognises the look. He’s trying to prepare himself. For rejection.

There’s a deep pang within Akaashi’s chest. He still needs to know one more thing, though.

“What did you mean by the note you sent yesterday?”

“Exactly what it said, ‘Kaashi-san,” Osamu says. “You are responsible for what ya have tamed.”

“So you’re saying, what?” Akaashi’s heart is slamming against his ribcage. Something flutters in his stomach, ferocious and wild. “I have tamed you?”

Osamu’s eyes are a pair of smouldering coals. “I like ya, ‘Kaashi-san,” he says simply. “I’ve liked ya for a long time now.”

Akaashi struggles to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat.

The ball is in his court now. Akaashi knows that if he walks away, Osamu won’t pursue him. He’ll accept his answer, whatever that may be.

Akaashi doesn’t want to run away anymore, though. He unrolls the last slip of paper from his pocket, taking out a pencil to cross out a few words before holding it up.

_il est revenu…_

_he came back…_

Osamu glances at him, puzzled, and Akaashi realises he might just have made a mistake. He laughs, and slowly tugs Osamu close instead. “I’m not very good at this,” he admits.

“‘Kaashi-san,” Osamu says, their faces now a few inches apart. “What are ya…”

“I’m sorry, Osamu-san.” Osamu’s eyes widen as Akaashi uses his given name for the first time.

And then their lips meet. Osamu’s lips are a bit dry. Akaashi slowly coaxes them open with his own. He feels Osamu’s confusion, his hesitation, his fear. He releases Osamu with one last soft peck.

Osamu’s eyes are wide open, staring at Akaashi intently. Akaashi colours, ducking his head. “Sorry that it took me so long. I—I like you too, Osamu-san.” He looks up again, shyly.

Osamu’s the one who tugs Akaashi in this time, and it’s a completely different kiss to their first. Akaashi sighs into the contact as Osamu slants his mouth against his, pressing their mouths together tenderly, sweetly. Osamu holds Akaashi’s face in both of his hands as he dips his head and deepens the kiss, before he breaks away to press kisses onto both of Akaashi’s cheeks, to his nose, to both corners of his eyelids.

“Ya have no idea,” Osamu breathes as his lips hover once again over Akaashi’s own, “how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Please,” Akaashi says, both his hands on Osamu’s shoulders, “call me Keiji.”

“Keiji,” Osamu says, setting his mouth against Akaashi’s once more. This time, he urges Akaashi’s mouth open with his tongue. Akaashi obliges, connecting their tongues, one hand winding its way up to Osamu’s hair. Every muscle in his body is singing one name. _Osamu_ , he whispers as heat begins to pool in his stomach. _Osamu_ , he groans as Osamu sucks a bruise onto his lower lip. _Osamu,_ he calls as Osamu joins their lips together, apart, then together again.

The little prince might never have found his way back to the pilot, Akaashi thinks through a haze. Maybe there were no other flocks of wild birds that ever got passage through his planet again. But maybe that was okay.

If the pilot loved the little prince enough, he would’ve tried to make a way.

Osamu wraps Akaashi in his arms. Akaashi feels happy and warm.

If the little prince couldn’t find his way back, maybe the pilot found a way to him instead.

“What was it you were tryin’ to show me anyway, Keiji?”

“Oh.”

Keiji picks up the slightly crumpled piece of paper, handing it to Osamu. “I rewrote it,” he says. “I rewrote it to say he returned. The little prince,” he beams, “he came back.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read [The Little Prince](http://blogs.ubc.ca/edcp508/files/2016/02/TheLittlePrince.pdf) yet, go do it!


End file.
